Final Mission_Zion_A World War 2 Thriller by Chuck Driskell

Author:Chuck Driskell [Driskell, Chuck]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Autobahn Books
Published: 2018-01-04T22:00:00+00:00

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The 75,000-plus Hitler Youth had been inside the gaping mouth of the stadium, waiting in complete and obedient silence for well over an hour—sheer misery for anyone, and especially for adolescent boys. Earlier, at high noon, they had marched in wide columns to their pre-assigned locations, singing cadences in unison, their voices echoing through the buildings and monuments. Like every other parent or guardian in the area, Neil had stood in a line at what was known as the Great Road, watching the boys as they performed their precision maneuvers while flooding into the colossal, horseshoe arena. He observed the numerous cameras, shooting the formations as the unit directors shouted to the operators to focus only on those Jungvolk with distinct Aryan features. Neil waited until he spotted Peter’s brigade guidon, peering through the masses until he saw the boy. And there he was, almost squarely in the middle, marching in step and singing his cadence as he had been taught—and was required—to do.

Once Peter passed, Neil walked back to the truck and retrieved his dirty undershirt from the day before, ripping it and stuffing a third of it into his pocket. He hustled away from the truck and scoured the campsites until he found what he needed, a book held by what must have been someone’s grandfather. The man was asleep, snoring away on a blanket, his skin bright pink from the early autumn sun. Beside him was a pile of beer bottles, and clutched over his midsection was the book. Neil tapped the man’s bare foot, waiting until he lifted his head and shaded his eyes.

“May I use a blank page from your book?” Neil asked.

The man blinked a number of times, seemingly confused as he clawed from under his alcohol-induced slumber. Without a word, he handed Neil the book. Neil flipped it open, finding a blank page at the very back of the book and ripping it out. He tossed the book back to the befuddled man and walked away.

Next, Neil searched for a pencil. He had an ink pen in the truck, but in order to make the note genuine he needed a pencil. After considerable searching, he snatched one from the dashboard of a car parked not too far from the Heinz truck.

The Hitler Youth had now been situated in the stadium for over ninety minutes. Thankfully, they were no longer silent. Now they were replying en masse to the various charges from the latest dignitary on the microphone. Neil walked back to the southwestern end of the stadium, at the Great Road, seeing the undisciplined SS driver of the Reichsleiter’s Mercedes, right where he had left him. From a great distance, he watched as the man occasionally nipped from a flask. Satisfied, Neil turned and walked southeast until he arrived at the railroad tracks, following them into a shallow valley. It was the perfect spot for a naughty rendezvous and quite some distance away.

Up the opposite hill was a row of homes, the closest ones to the Nazi parade grounds.

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